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Sigurd Demonsbane
And so he stood, defiant and all-powerful, his eyes blue flames that seared the demon in front of him. "For your crimes against my brothers," he said, "I send you now to oblivion." - Anonymous account of Sigurd Demonsbane slaying the Demon Lord Aeshma's Soul Appearance Sigurd is a great bear of a man, standing at 6'8 (2.03 meters) and possessing a broad-shouldered and muscular build that seems to go even beyond what his profession would require. He dwarfs virtually anyone who stands next to him, with arms and legs as large as small trees, and has a stern figure to match. His skin, naturally fair, is deeply tanned from years of work, and crisscrossed with an inordinate amount of scars for a blacksmith. The two most notable are on his chest and back, a large matching set that look as though someone stabbed him through and through with some kind of immense tusk. His hooded eyes are a deep blue, set in a square face with a strong jawline and under a prominent forehead. While kind, his eyes are filled with the hard glint of one who's been through hell and become rather jaded after seeing much of the world. His nose is short and aquiline, set above a thin-lipped mouth which is constantly covered by a thick beard. This beard hides a scar that bisects his left cheek, a reminder of a battle with a foe now long dead. His hair, which is thick and falls to his shoulders in soft waves, is the color of golden wheat, peppered here and there with a few pale streaks nearing gray. Sigurd tends to wear rough tunics and breeches of various earthy colors under a great leather apron, alongside gloves and occasionally a face plate. However, when he travels he will also tend to carry a large brown cloak which is specially treated to be waterproof. One item he always wears is a silver medallion shaped like a flame. Personality A soldier who lost everything to victory, Sigurd fully understands the value of life and just what taking it does to someone. Which isn't to say he's squeamish about it, as he's taken his fair share. When he was younger, he idolized the Moarkor, and even after seeing the world as it is now he can't help but hold Farnorth on something of a high pedestal. Having been surrounded by other such legends as the Raven Witch and the First Paragons (even meeting the Seraph One-With-Bells) and above all the Moarkor for his first twenty-odd years, very little is capable of phasing him. A small part of him can't help but compare people in the modern world to them, and almost always finds them lacking. He is silently prideful of his achievements, and is greatly saddened by having lost the ability to sit around a fire drinking with his friends and the other members of the Flameguard talking about their various war stories. While he more or less enjoys his work as a blacksmith, a large part of him misses fighting for such a great cause as he did in the past, which is part of why he decided to join the Pretender's faction a year or so before the present day. The larger part of it, however, is his belief that at birth all living beings are equal, and can only become better or worse from there on, whether they are man, elf, dragonkin, or anything in between. This belief, however, only fully began to dawn on him during the first ten years he spent in the modern world travelling, and began to understand the full extent of the divide between species and just how misguided it was. He has a very close relationship to a young Domaen elf named Halthass, whom he considers almost as the son – or rather the nephew – he never got to raise, and in fact joined the Pretender's faction largely because he believes that should the pretender win, it would allow for a world that could allow the elf to grow into what he has the potential to be, as opposed to being oppressed endlessly. History Early Life and beginnings in the war The son of one of Vallen Farnorth's companions from before he killed the original Moarkor and a magically talented noblewoman -both of which became renowned figures in the Drowning War- Sigurd was from the very beginning thrust into a world of war and trained by a score of people to take care of himself and others. His father, Jormund the Hammer, one of the original Flameguard, taught him to fight from the moment he could walk, and when ten Sigurd could best most men twice or thrice his age. Due to his close proximity to the Moarkor and the war effort for all of the beginning of his life, however, Sigurd's training didn't end there. He was taught by some of the best fighters in existence at the time, including Aodh Flamben, the first Warrior, while his mother -Valandra of the Pale Tower- molded him into one of the best combat mages within the Flameguard of his time. He began to fight officially at the age of fourteen, participating in a number of skirmishes across the land near Avalon. As the demons had entered the fray some few years beforehand, his father was reluctant to let his son fight, but this worry proved to be unnecessary. In his fifth mission and first full-scale battle, Sigurd single-handedly slew a drake that had killed one of his fellow soldiers. However, as the battle lasted for nearly three full days, it wasn't recognized until afterwards, when the Moarkor himself visited him briefly. It was a short reunion, but a touching one, with the man who could well have been considered Sigurd's idol above all save perhaps for his father taking time out of his incredibly busy schedule to check up on him. Sigurd rested for half a week, and then immediately left the bed to start training harder and become the best soldier he could. Flammenwächter As he reached the age of seventeen, he first met the woman who would later become his wife, a pretty peasant girl from Galea named Minni. Her father had opted to join the Moarkor's forces after noticing their advance, bringing with him a number of crops and what animals he'd saved from his farm, and Sigurd personally aided them to join, escorting them away from the battlefield over the course of two weeks, during which he and Minni started to bond. It didn't last long, and once he got them to a stronghold and in contact with someone that he trusted he had to return to the front lines. When he returned to the fray, it was to find his friends and allies locked in conflict with demons. The battle was long and bloody, and he mobilized what forces he could reach to mount a proper counteroffensive. While they didn't make any headway, they managed to hold until reinforcements from the north -led by his father's partner- came and turned the tide, allowing them to push back the demons and, after a solid week of battle, continue to march forwards. Sigurd was commended for his capability to lead the men even with his own inexperience and youth, and at that moment began to be considered to become a member of the Flameguard, the Moarkor's elite troops. In the meanwhile, however, Sigurd was promoted, and began leading men more and more, pushing his way through the front lines tirelessly. Due to his immense size and the way that he tended to wear a fur over his armor, he started to be called the Iron Bear by his enemies. His first great failure happened when he was nearing the age of nineteen. Having recently come off of two weeks of break, during which he'd visited extended family further north, he returned to find the siege of a city near the borders of Avalon that the forces he was attached to were botching. Their enemies resisted greatly and had managed to make good reserves of food and supplies before burning their surroundings. For the next month, the advance halted to a standstill, as supplies coming in for that tackers were slow, while enemy reserves held strong. In the end, an assault made by the city's forces pushed back the Moarkor's. During the battle, Sigurd held off a number of enemy soldiers to allow some of his men to escape, but in the end had to turn tail and run all the same, making him feel great shame for the first time in his short life. A quarter of his forces were lost and the city had managed to overrun their camp, cutting them off from a number of siege engines and weapon stashes. They were pursued in their retreat for a full week, before the defenders pulled back, allowing the Moarkor's forces to find the main body and begin formulating a plan of attack. Sigurd, feeling that he'd failed, wanted to give up his command position to a more experienced figure, but ended up finding himself in the company of the Warrior, as he had many times before. Talking with the first of the Immortals allowed him to learn from his mistakes and see how to improve himself, rather than simply give up. Feeling better, Sigurd pushed out with what forces could be spared to take the city, this time planning for what eventualities they would face. At first, the enemy forces attempted to strike, and Sigurd used this brashness to his advantage, sending a number of squads in to attack food reserves, others to cut off their access to the nearby river. After two weeks, with civilian populations starving and dying of dehydration, surrender was negotiated and a hold kept on the city, and Sigurd continued his relentless march forwards. Killing Belphegor / Birth of the Demonsbane When the Moarkor's forces began reaching and pushing through Avalon's borders, progress slowed to a crawl. Demons became more numerous and the enemy forces more prepared. Sigurd found himself fighting among the battlefield against drakes and battlemages aplenty. His previous battle with one at fourteen became little more than the norm, and fighting three at once became child's play through force of habit. Little challenged him until one day when a score of demons attacked, led by a Great Demon Lord. With their forces being decimated, Sigurd and his commanding officers judged that the demons had to be taken out, and so the young warrior led a squad into the enemy's fortifications and ended up fighting the great Demon single-handedly. Few reports remain of that day, save that the city erupted into light and fire, with great bolts of lightning and pillars of fire arcing through the sky, buildings being torn to shreds as in turn Sigurd and his foe were thrown through them. By the end of the battle, which lasted for solid hours, Sigurd's weapons had all but been destroyed, and his magical energy nearly depleted. His armor barely held together after all the damage it had sustained, and his necessity to repeatedly heal himself and recharge his barriers left him drowsy. It was nearly his undoing, when the demon skewered him on a great spear, uttering his own name and challenging him. Near the brink of death, Sigurd unsheathed the dagger that he'd been given on his birthday two years prior. He muttered something under his breath, which the demon then cackled at, leaning down and claiming he didn't even have the strength to speak. Then, Sigurd rose to his feet and grabbed the demon's neck, channeling all of the strength and magical energy he had left into his dagger and stabbing into the creature's throat, yelling out his own challenge. It was enough, and at long last Belphegor lay dead. It was all Sigurd could to do pull the demon's weapon out of himself and heal his wounds one last time before he fell unconscious. When he awoke two days later, his forces had taken control and were celebrating. When he limped out of the tent he'd been set in, he found the few remains of the creature sitting by a great fire, with men drinking, dancing and singing. He found himself celebrated as the great warrior who'd slain the demon lord, and drank himself for a good few hours, before he ended up falling unconscious once more. He flitted in and out of sleep for a week and a half before he finally recovered all of his strength, by which time Farnorth and the Warrior had arrived. Unfortunately, the Moarkor no longer had the same kind energy about him, instead seeming greatly tired more than anything. However, the visit was for Sigurd, at first to congratulate him, but then, and more importantly, to ask him to join the Flameguard, as his father had. While he'd been a likely candidate for quite some time, his ability to kill a Great Demon Lord only cemented that candidature. Sigurd accepted, and moved away from the front lines for nearly two months as Aodh forged him runic armor and a set of weapons made from what had been salvaged of the demon's skeleton. Now armed with Sunder, Quell and Vanquish, Sigurd began training for everything his new position entailed. As he trained, he also continued to encounter demons; as the war went on, he would eventually end up with the largest amount of slain Demon Lords under his belt; Through the course of the war he killed several dozen of them - seven of which were in Soul form, destroying their very essence for all eternity. One of these was Belphegor, back for revenge, and another was the Demon Lord Aeshma. Marriage and Fatherhood In those brief moments of time when he could escape his training, which wasn't often, he travelled up north to visit the peasant family he'd aided two years before. In time, he began growing closer to Minni, and even once he was sent back into service, he visited her as often as he could. He would regale her with the tales of what he'd seen, and even with some confidential details of his more recent missions as the great blond Bear of the Flameguard. His first slip-ups in covert missions, his more obvious successes in sabotage and strategic assault, even the way his new armor and weapons felt like nothing more than extensions of himself. As the years went by, and the war continued, growing harsher and harsher, and missions grew more frequent and longer, Sigurd finally decided to do what he knew he should before someone else did, and as he returned from a particularly grueling mission into Avalonian territory that had lasted two and a half months, he asked Minni to marry him, after seeking the approval of her father. Both said yes, and the celebration was quickly prepared. His mother and father both moved away from the frontlines, as well as a number of his comrades and those few of the Flameguard that could manage to attend. Sadly, only two weeks after their marriage, Sigurd had to leave once more on another mission, this one that would last nearly eight months. By the time he managed to return, Minni had already born their child some weeks before. Sigurd was thrilled, and vowed to be the best father he could ever be. And he managed as well as one of his position could. However, family life was not all that took his time. Due to his upbringing and particular position, Sigurd found himself often in the company of many of the immortals. He managed to see firsthand the evolution of the Moarkor from the kind man who'd visited him when he was fourteen and injured to a man with few morals and fewer emotions, little more than a hollow shell of himself. He became if not a friend, then a trusted companion of his commander, Ren the Pale Avenger, and often visited Aodh to speak of his doubts. When the Raven Witch joined them, he even managed to get on her good side, almost considering her something of an aunt, much as he did most of others in his entourage. Sadly, this peace was not to last. When he was twenty-six, one of the most celebrated members of the Flameguard, he'd been personally assigned to fight alongside the Moarkor. This meant that he was present on that fateful day when the Gods descended onto Eun, and watched from afar as the Gods fought the Immortals. He saw Arrienne personally slay Jealousy, and then the Moarkor kill War and detonate the well. And then all was chaos. Through the Warpstorm Though he has no memory of it, Sigurd spent the next millenia with his body turned immortal, travelling from alternate reality to alternate reality. The Warpstorm born from the detonation of the Well of Magic by the Moarkor had sent him flying through the ends of reality. It was a difficult time; he fought horrendous creatures almost daily, and traveled through the remnant Warpzones whenever he found one, desperately searching for a way home. At times, he would end up lost, or else would find a world that seemed similar to his own save for a gut feeling. He would stay, briefly make a life for himself, and then leave when the opportunity presented itself. Through this, he saw any number of things that his mind could not register, an amount of information impossible for a human to process. During this time, he came across a world very similar to his own, save for the Gods being entities for good; he met Neliel herself during this time, and it was her that, in the end, helped him return to his own world via a portal at the northmost point in the world. Rebirth and Travels in a New World His eyes opened onto a blue sky. At first, he thought he'd been napping under a tree. The sky's blue color was a very familiar one. He smiled, thinking that he must have fallen unconscious and dreamed of the past few days. Then, when he sat up, he noticed he was in full armor, lying on a field he didn't know, with his weapons -and some that didn't belong to him- scattered about. Confused, as he didn't recognize his surroundings in the least, he rose to his feet and gathered his weapons, as well as another few that he judged might be useful. He then set off northwards, looking for the nearest road. When he finally found it, at the end of three days' travel through fields and woods, he followed it in the same direction that the majority of the tracks on it seemed to be going. In the end, he happened across a small town in the outskirts of Galea. Due to the lengthy travels he'd been through in the past few days, the first thing he did was go to the local tavern, an incredibly small establishment he didn't recognize. The building was empty, save for the owner and two other customers speaking softly by the bar. All three immediately quieted as he made his way through and rested his helm against the bar. Confused, Sigurd sought information, asking first for a drink, then if they'd won the war. All three men glanced at him, then his armor, and then his large variety of weapons, asking what war he meant. Thinking they were mocking him, he spoke of the war, the only one he was aware of, against the gods. All three peered at him as though he were insane, which immediately made him suspicious. Narrowing his eyes, he asked what year they were, and when someone mentioned the year eight-hundred and seventy-one TG, he asked what the devil they meant by TG. For a moment, he thought they were mocking him, but then when they explained, he thought that he was insane. He paused for a moment, until the barkeep asked him if he was alright, and then stood, muttering that he had to leave, paying with a silver coin that didn't belong to this time. Making his way outside, Sigurd ran until he couldn't anymore, using his magic to fling himself skywards and peer out around him. He couldn't get high enough to see, and landed roughly. He'd been in Galea before, but nothing he saw was familiar to him. Plains, as far as the eye could see. He returned to the village to regain his helm, by which time the bar was filled with patrons who seemed to be waiting for something; him. Upon re-entering, they all looked at him as though he were some kind of ghost, prompting him to take his helm and leave as quickly as he could. The only things he could think of were that he needed to find his wife and son, back in Ordel. Realizing that he didn't know where to go, however, he returned for the second time, asking for directions. It was a strange feeling, for him who'd known all of the territories like the back of his hand. He'd thought he was still in Avalon, at first, but then was told that he was in Galea. Still confused, but at least having some marking of where to go, he only managed to leave after one of the nearby farmers insisted he take a horse. While not one for speed, it was a great beast of an animal, not even flinching when Sigurd first rode it in full armor. The warrior ended up remaining for nearly a week, by the end, being granted small gifts of food for his travels. He left some days later, after he'd treated the bear fur on his shoulders and gotten himself a halfway decent cloak, as well as amassed sufficient supplies. Somewhat surprised by the kindness, he left with a bad feeling in his stomach. The road wasn't a greatly secure one, and he was jumped by bandits repeatedly over the course of his trip, granting him an easy stash of coin and other supplies once he'd eliminated them and found their hideouts. While it didn't amass to even a fraction of the purse he kept on himself, he knew at least that that coin was worth something to the world surrounding him. As he grew closer to Ordel, he came across more travelers, who occasionally would accept for him to sit by their fire and share food, drink, and more importantly to Sigurd, gossip, perhaps feeling safer when a large man in armor and carrying enough weapons for a small garrison was nearby. Through this, he learned that some figure called a Fire Mage was roaming about, that there were stirrings of conflict in the air, and that the weather was, as ever, mediocre in the east. When he pushed now and again to learn about stories of the Immortals, and when all of them started with "long ago," his suspicions that he'd been sent somewhere in the future were confirmed. Still, he kept hope -deep down knowing it vain- that he would find Minni and his son at the end of the road. He didn't. His arrival in Ordel was largely uneventful, though the city guards thought him to be some kind of sellsword. When he made his way through the streets to his old home, only to find the entire block having been completely changed, and after asking around as to whether anyone knew of a Minni having lived nearby to no avail, he left once more. He returned to his wandering after having bought himself a map of the continent, finding the nations severely different than he remembered them. Galea's east coast had been wiped off the map, and the territories' borders were completely gone. Gone was the Avalon he knew, gone many cities he remembered. He decided to travel to the capital, Orliz, if only to gain access to what might be considered a library there and seek to learn about the history. Once he arrived, however, he learned that that might be something of an issue, as guards immediately took him in for questioning when they saw him wearing heavy plate. He managed to make it through without starting any conflict -something of a record for him- by remaining polite and saying that the armor was a gift from his father, some great warrior out to the west. That, and the fact that his mere presence instilled fear in the men, allowed him to enter unscathed. However, the first chance he got, he bought himself some proper clothes -one set of which would better suit travelling and the other that made him appear as something of a noble- and sold all of his excess weaponry and items. Having gained himself a room at a respectable tavern with door locks that might hold up against intrusion -admittedly at a price that was absolute theft- he washed and slept, setting off the next day with nothing more than his dagger on his person, making him feel somewhat naked. This ended up being a wise decision, for though his height made him stand out, being in full runic plate and carrying demonbone weapons would have made it that much more obvious. He toured the library, ending up talking with one of the bookkeepers, talking about history. When he'd exhausted the librarian's knowledge, the young woman pointed him in the direction of the University, where he might wish to speak with the professor of history. And he did. He remained in Ordel for a number of weeks, moving into a room at the University at the history professor's request upon finding this brilliant new student with a passion like nothing else – thought admittedly, Sigurd's collection of centuries-old treasure lit up the man's passion like little else. Together, they explored the last nine centuries over nearly six months, after which Sigurd felt more comfortable with this time that wasn't his. They parted ways amicably, and Sigurd left a large part of his purse's contents in the man's possession for him to study, wondering if he'd ever realize he'd met a literal ghost of the past. After this, Sigurd began wandering the world once again, but this time, in search if masters of martial arts. He couldn't rely heavily on updating his magic, as he didn't want to imagine what would happen if he were to bring himself to the Institution and explain his situation, so he used tomes he could come across and encounters with mages on the road to broaden his vocabulary. He used this time to, on top of finding martial artists to learn how to better his sword skills alone, which he did find a great deal of, begin work as something of a mercenary, although instead of seeking monetary recompense, would rid towns and villages of raiders and monsters -either monstrosities that came from warpzones or, more often than not, wild Drakes- that attacked them. After three or four years, he came across many on the road that spoke of the Great Iron Bear, a calling card he'd managed to regain due to his armor and furs. After about nine and a half years of this, seeking to settle down some, he came across a small estate in mid-eastern Galea, after having returned to the country after travels in Fel and Lyen. Using a cart that he'd taken from some thieves some time ago and hiding and disguising his armor and weapons in a great chest, he approached asking if the lord of the house were seeking a blacksmith. Luckily for him, they were, and after proving that he knew his blacksmithing -calling upon what were, to him, decade-old memories of working with Aodh, and some that he'd picked up more recently during his travels- he set in as the blacksmith of the area. Meeting the Elf; siding with the Pretender His arrival coincided with the arrival of a number of Domaen slaves to the estate. Sigurd took some interest in them, having to suppress rage at the way many of them were treated. After nearly a year, however, one of the children, a young boy named Halthass, was attacked by the Lord's children. When he was just about ready to step in, the boy began to glow and erected a magical barrier, sending both of his attackers flying. Curious as to what this could mean, he picked up the boy and carried him to his parents' cottage half a mile or so away. Over the next few years, as these attacks continued to happen, Sigurd began researching on the phenomenon. After speaking to the boy's mother about the stories she told him, a number of them about great elven heroes that hadn't lived since long before Sigurd himself had been born, though his northern compatriots told stories of them. He took the boy under his wing, and made him his apprentice when he turned fourteen. Meanwhile, he continued his research into largely unknown folklore tales about the Elves of the North, until he found enough information to greatly support his suspicions that the boy was a descendant of the royal house of the northern elves. Two years before present day, while out on a supply run to a nearby city, Sigurd came across a man speaking for someone claiming to be the true king of Galea. Curious, he sought out more information, and upon learning of this pretender's goals, decided to ally with him. While his position didn't allow for a great deal of activity, he used what time he could to start re-sharpening his skills, seeking out threats across Galea when he could and practicing his skills in the woods some ways away from the estate's main stretch of land. A short few weeks after its departure, a caravan from the estate returned, with one elf in particular missing. After learning what had happened, and learning of the events in Lastlight, Sigurd began to prepare to leave for the last time, making preparations to bring Halthass' parents along with him. Abilities Back in his time, Sigurd was recognized as one of the greatest mortal warriors alive. He was a master in the use of all weapons available to him, having been trained by multiple members of the Flameguard and partially by the First Warrior himself, and his abilities were only amplified by the Runic armor he wore. Additionally, he was an incredibly talented battlemage believed to be immortal by the men who served with him due to his ability to rapidly heal himself -moreso than just about any other mortal- even in the middle of a battle, having great elemental control and having passable barriers. He was also learned in the use of mental magic, although only to use in interrogation when no other, more specialized member of the Flameguard was nearby. He was so skilled in combat arts that he managed to slay a Drake at the age of fourteen, before he'd even fully begun mastering all of his magic potential, and took out a Great Demon Lord – Admittedly suffering an amount of wounds that would have been deadly were it not for his magical ability – when he was nineteen, the skeleton of which was then turned into a set of weapons for him. He could easily take on upwards of thirty average warriors without even using his magic, and hundreds with. During the first nine and a half years after his appearance in the present, he travelled the world as something of a good Samaritan and catching up on the nine hundred years he missed, as well as updating his combat skills to fit in better with the world around him. Much like his use of mental magic, he was trained to be able to infiltrate enemy strongholds either to gain information or to eliminate specific targets. This was by no means his comfort zone and his first few stealth tasks would have failed dramatically were it not for the partners he was usually placed with, but by the end of the drowning war he was far better than the majority of the population could think. While he was renowned on the battlefield, his other missions were always completely secret and even his closer friends had no knowledge of them. He was lucky enough to be able to study Aodh's blacksmithing during his time off of missions, so when he reappeared in the world years prior to current events and after spending the necessary time learning about history and updating his fighting ability and magical use, he became a blacksmith. His work is of considerable quality and he puts a lot of effort into it, although he often purposefully makes it lesser than he can manage to keep a low profile and not draw too much attention to himself. That, and when he came to realize that the majority of his work would not be making armor and weapons but merely repairing household items, making horseshoes and the like, he almost immediately became rather bored and, for lack of a better word, slightly lazy in comparison. Weaponry Sigurd technically speaking owns a myriad array of weaponry, and is easily capable of forging himself a new weapon when needed. However, his favored weapons are a trio formed of a greatsword and two small battleaxes, alongside a steel dirk. Each of these weapons was, much like his armor, forged by the first Warrior from the skeleton of a Great Demon Lord. The blades of the weapons are all jet-black and somewhat crystalline in appearance, as well as being virtually indestructible. The greatsword, Sunder, is arguably Sigurd's favored weapon, yet at the same time is the one he will usually fall upon last when in combat. The weapon is formed as something of a claymore, with a long handle and a pommel made of demon bone, carved into the shape of a bear's head. Additionally, a fine engraving of a flame, which matches his pendant, is positioned just above the guard. His axes, Vanquish and Quell, are the weapons he uses most in combat, and are considerably larger than most single-sided, one-handed axes are. They are capable of cleaving through bone and heavily damaging plate with relative ease, so long as they are swung by their owner - with or without runic armor. His dagger, Belphegor, is named after the demon whose bones were used to make the other three weapons. It is a sixteen-inch dirk forged for him on his seventeenth birthday, the weapon used to slay the demon whose name it shares, and is additionally the only weapon that he tends to keep on or near himself at all times. Trivia